I shake my head. “You did what you had to do. Hating two parents is—” I swallow against a knot in my throat as the old hurt inside my chest cracks open. “Hard.” The word doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s all I can manage.
“I’m sorry,” Ian says. After a long stretch of silence, he adds, “Will you tell me what happened with your dad?”
I swallow two more times to ease the constriction in my throat. “I don’t want to steal your moment.”
“You’re not. I need to think of something else—to provide comfort.”
I study him—the urgency that lingers in his expression from those last two words. Ian finds comfort in providing comfort. So I nod. For himandfor me. I can’t imagine ever not wanting his comfort.
He gets up to sit on the bed, against the headboard, and arranges me between his legs the same way he’s done countlesstimes lately. And just like all the other times, he gathers me close, wrapping his arms and legs around me—wrapping me up in safety.
“Tell me what happened. I’m here. I’m listening. I’m not ever leaving you.”
His words sink straight into that broken place inside me, and they heal some of those old cracks—lend me the courage to release some of the hurt.
I tell him everything. How my father left when I was four. My few early memories of him and Mom yelling at each other. Being scared when Mom came to hold me and half her face was blue. How she grew colder and colder over the years. The drinking and the detachment. The dismissive words when I tried to talk to her. Tucking her in when she fell asleep over the table. The spilled wine and vomit. Constantly trying to win her affection by doing well at school and at the piano. How I strived to win that golden trophy, just so I could show it to her. How coldly she reacted when I finally did.
Ian’s grip on me grows tighter and tighter as I go, and I cling to him, needing his touch to remind me that I’m not alone anymore.
Once I’ve let it all out, we just sit here, quiet in the wake of the hurt.
Ian is the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“No, not like that.” He scoots out from behind me to half lie on top of me.
“I’m sorry, Jenna.” He trails his fingertips down my cheek, over my forehead, and across my lips, taking it all in as if committing it to memory. “For everything. Making Killian abuse and blackmail you. Manipulating you into staying with us. Sending you upstairs to him without getting any aftercare—”
“I did get aftercare,” I interrupt.
He presses his index finger to my lips. “Not the way you needed. You got a Band-Aid solution. He should have been the one to take care of you afterward.”
I swallow hard. Because he’s right. Despite getting the best, most attentive, loving aftercare from Ian, I needed it from Killian when he was the one who broke me apart.
“I’m sorry for leaving you alone with him,” he continues, regret sinking deep into his features. He watches me for a quiet moment before continuing in a breathy voice. “But like I’ve said before, I’m also not sorry. Because all those things are what brought us together. All three of us. Without those things, you wouldn’t be here, in my bed, my arms. I wouldn’t have found love.”
Biting my lips, I stare up at him. “Are you saying—”
“I love you, Jenna. So much. I will do everything in my power to give you all your heart’s desires—to make up for all the hurt I’ve caused. If it means stepping away and letting you and Killian have each other, I’ll do that. I’ll do anything for you. For both of you.”
I shake my head. “Don’teverleave me.” I cradle his face between my hands, trying to convey my urgency. “Ineedyou.” I close my eyes against the brimming tears that threaten to spill. Drawing a shuddery breath, I prepare myself for the terrifying but truthful words I’m about to release into the open. “I love you,” I say with all the sincerity of my heart. “You’re the first person I’ve ever truly loved. Killian was a crush for so many years, but you’re the one who made me feel true love. So don’t ever walk away from me, thinking I’ll be happy with Killian—without you. Because I won’t.”
He nods, a stunned look deepening his gaze.
“I love him too,” I continue, “but I can’t be with him without being with you. I can’t be with either of you without the other. So you’d damn well better find a way to make this work.”
He watches me for another moment, then says with a firmness that eases the trembling in my heart, “I will.”
60
The Birthday
Killian
Age eight
It’s still dark outside when I wake, so I turn in bed and try to fall asleep again, but then I hear sounds downstairs. Suddenly, I’m wide awake.Dad is home! The best and biggest birthday present!